Harry Potter and the Neverending Story
by GenkaiFan
Summary: One afternoon, eight-year-old Harry was running from his cousin and his band of thugs when he ducked into a strange old book store where he met an even stranger old man and a magical book that will help him to achieve greatness.


Harry Potter and the Neverending Story

2535

Summary: One afternoon, eight-year-old Harry was running from his cousin and his band of thugs when he ducked into a strange old book store where he met an even stranger old man and a magical book that will help him to achieve greatness.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and The Neverending Story belong to their respective writers, directors and producers. I'm just playing in their worlds and I am a little old lady from Michigan, so please do not sue. If you do not recognize the character, assume it's an OC.

Spoiler Alert: There are some scenes from the movie "The Neverending Story". They will be Italicized.

A/N: I am basing this story on the original movie. I was hugely disappointed in the other two sequels. They didn't quite live up to the original, in my opinion. So no, there will be no references to them.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

An undersized, dark-haired boy in ragged over-sized clothes ran for his life as he was being chased by four taller boys. Harry Potter looked over his shoulder to see how much of a lead he had. His cousin, Dudley, and his gang had caught sight of him as he had been heading for the library – his only refuge in the neighborhood. Because of the vicious lies that his aunt and uncle told everyone, Harry didn't have a good reputation. He was blamed for all Dudley's and his gang's vandalism, but then he was blamed for everything that went wrong.

The shouting of Dudley's gang let Harry know they were getting closer. He needed to find a hiding place and fast. Putting on a bit of speed, Harry turned onto a side street and ducked into a recessed door frame, grabbing the door handle and pushed his way into the shop. He watched as the gang of boys ran past the door.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Bastian Balthazar Bux took over the old book store from the grumpy Mr. Coreander when the old man died and willed everything to him. Bastian had worked for the cranky old man since he was ten-years old, after school and during the summer.

He had found the book store when he was ten, when he found a kinder spirit in Mr. Coreander. The grumpy old man had the same passion for books, but then Mr. Coreander had a secret that he shared with the impressionable boy.

There wasn't much money coming into the store, but like with Mr. Coreander, he had a hefty money-order business as well as commission fees for finding rare and priceless books for collectors over the years. He would also get the odd customer or two looking for some very esoteric literature.

Bastian's father had not liked the idea and thought that his son was wasting his potential in just a dead-end job.

"There is no future in books, son," he would tell him. "You need to keep your feet on the ground and get a real job. With your degree, you could and should be teaching."

Bastian smiled and nodded, before returning to the book store and his latest project. Sadly, his father never understood his passion for reading and the wonder it held for him. Books were gateways to different lands and wonders untold. True there was no real money to be had, but it was rewarding in its own way.

Mr. Coreander passed away when Bastian, then 21, and finished up his English literature degree; he had willed the whole business to him. The old store owner had no family and was alone until a shy ten-year-old hid in his store to get away from some bullies.

Just before he had passed away, Mr. Coreander called Bastian to him and told him the true secret to the "_Neverending Story_" and demanded that his apprentice protect the books within the store, including the magical book.

Bastian was brought out of his thoughts when the bell over the door tinkled. A customer or someone needed his help?

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Harry ran out of the store, but not before checking to see if the coast was clear. It was getting late and he knew that he would be in trouble, possibly locked out of his relatives' house. It would not be the first time. Luckily, he had a secret place that no one knew about. Quietly, he strolled into the Library. The librarian, Mrs. Witherspoon, would allow him to sit and read quietly for hours.

She was one of the few people that didn't believe in the rumors that his relatives spread about him.

"I have eyes, Harry," she informed him once. "Anyone could see it's that fat cousin of yours doing all the mischief around the neighborhood. As long as you don't cause trouble or make a mess, you can hide in here."

Harry glanced to see if she was around. It was close to closing, so Mrs. Witherspoon would be checking to see that all the books have been re-shelved and that the cleaning lady had done her job properly. Harry quietly made his way to a back room that she had once shown him. It was where old, out-of-date books that needed to be kept, as well as old files and card catalogs. Broken chairs and tables were stacked in one corner. An over-stuffed Toad dressed as a country squire doffing his top hat statue stood in another. No one really came into this room, as many feared it would be haunted.

Harry didn't mind. He liked hiding in here. He had made a small fort under one of the tables, complete with an old but working brass table lamp, a couple of cushions, and old army blanket. He opened an old tin box to see if his stash of crackers and packets of dried meats and fruits were still good. He learned a long time ago that dry foods lasted longer and keeping them in a tin kept the pests away from them. And being dried and processed, they last longer. Water, as well as using the toilet, was easy to get once the library was completely closed and everyone gone. As long as he didn't wander too much and disturb the security sensors, he was safe for the night.

Once he was comfortable, he opened the thick leather-covered tome and began to read. . .

'_It was midnight in the howling forest. The wind whistled through the tops of ancient trees. Suddenly something enormous crashed and rumbled through the eerie woods. . _. '

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Night was falling and back at the Dursleys, they didn't care that their nephew was out after dark. They just shrugged and locked the doors as they went to bed. In their minds, if the freak wasn't home, why they should they worry about him?

He could sleep in the shed.

They never wanted the freak in the first place. The brat was dumped on their doorstep one November morning, in a basket, no less. Something out of a Charles Dickens novel.

No, the boy could stay out in the cold, for all they cared.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The sun was starting to peak through the many tall buildings casting away the darkness as color once more appeared in the world.

Harry, tired and sleepy from reading all night, was on the last few pages of the ancient tome he had been reading.

The child-like empress placed the grain of sand that was all that was once her vast empire. In Harry's open palm, the sand began to glow, lighting up the darkness around them.

She smiled and asked. _"What are you going to wish for?"_

Harry had stopped wishing a long time ago. The Dursleys saw to that. "I don't have any wishes left. My relatives didn't like me to."

She sighed and whispered, _"Then there would be no more Fantasia."_

Harry blinked and thought for a moment. _"Oh. . .Um. . . How many wishes do I get?"_

She smiled. _"As many was you want and the more wishes you make the more magnificent Fantasia will become."_

When Harry finally closed the book and looked around him, the world seemed brighter and more wonderful then the day before. The only dark cloud hovering around him was the fact that he had to return to the Dursleys, sooner or later, and face the consequences of him not returning home last night. Not that anyone in that household cared what happened to him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Placing the tome on the dusty, cluttered desk at the Book Seller's shop the next day, eight-year-old Harry waited to hear his punishment.

Bastian gave a nod and placed a hand on the leather cover and with a knowing look. "So, what did you think of Falkor? At least, I hope he was in your story? Everyone needs a Luck Dragon at least once in their life."

Harry blinked and grinned. "Falkor was brilliant! . . . Wait! . . . You aren't angry?"

Basian Bux placed a hand on the small boy's thin shoulder. "Nayhh. Not many can read that book and understand its true purpose. I was ten when I first read it. My mother had died and my father was struggling to give me a home life as well as working to support the both of us. He wanted me to stop living with my head in the clouds and to keep my feet on the ground. His words. It never worked for me and he never understood."

Harry sighed and nodded. "My parents were killed when I was a baby and my relatives never liked me. They didn't like me to ask questions. Or wishes."

"Then let's do something about that, shall we? What would be your first wish?"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Ten-year-old Harry was gathering the mail dropped on his relatives' door mat. He still lived with the Dursleys, but they were not as bad as they had been when he was eight. He smiled as he looked at the green envelope. So, Mr. Bux was right. It did came.

Harry thought back to when he was eight. First thing that Mr. Bux had done was make a few phone calls. He had gathered quite a collection of contacts through the years. One was with a certain Librarian in a school that was in a castle in Scotland.

"Harry the first thing you must learn is not what you know but who. Knowledge is power and you must know when and where to use it. I know more that you think about who you are."

Harry looked up with a questioning look as Bastian continued:

"You see, I am what you people here in the UK – a Squib. I can't use real magic, but I can feel it all around me. That was a special gift given to me by the Auryn. You, however, were born with magic." Bastian reached up and pulled down a heavy book with golden lettering, "Hogwarts: A History."

"You are in there, by the way," he said, handing the book to Harry.

"I am?"

"Certainly. However, once you read that book, things will not be the same."

"I think I can handle that," Harry grinned up at him and Bastian Bux smiled back.

Over the course of the next two years, Mr. Bux became the parent and mentor that Harry desperately craved. Harry began to work part-time at the book store, after school and in the summer. The Dursleys didn't complain much, especially after they got a visit the Child Protective Services by a representative that couldn't be snowed by their lies. It helped that the agent, who had owed Bastian a favor, was in the Know and had been sworn to secrecy.

Harry learned a lot working at the store. He got to read whatever he wanted, as long as he wrote a book report on it. He met people from around the world, both magical and no-maj. No-maj was the widely acceptable term to those that had no magic, unlike in the UK and part of Europe, they were known as '_Muggles_.' (A horrible term, in many minds.)

Now at the age of ten, Harry was a more well-rounded lad. He was book smart as well as world smart. He could speak several languages, including a couple of magical creature languages. He was creative in his thinking and with his hands. He had taken several self-defense lessons on Mr. Bastian's advice.

The Dursleys were still nasty, but they had given Harry Dudley's second bedroom, much to Dudley's ire. Harry, slowly without them knowing, got rid of Dudley's old broken toys, filling the bookshelves with. . . well . . . books.

A small room in the back of the store became his second bedroom for when his relatives wanted to take a vacation. That room became his true home.

He never really considered his relatives' house as his home. He wasn't welcomed or wanted, just tolerated. Still, to keep the Wizarding World and certain people off his back, he had to comply.

Shaking his head to clear it, he took the rest of the mail to his uncle, tucking his letter in his under his shirt, out of sight.

Later, as he went to the store to help with a new shipment of books, Harry got a chance to read his letter.

"So, your letter has arrived?" asked Mr. Bastian.

Harry grinned and nodded.

"Well, your story is starting a new chapter, my boy."

"Yes sir. It is all part of the Neverending story, isn't it?"

Mr. Bastian grinned and ruffled Harry's already messy hair. "Come on. Those books won't shelved themselves. Then, you can go see the Child-like Empress and make more wishes. I think she's a bit sweet on you."

"Mr. Bastian!"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Harry found an empty cabin on the Hogwarts Express. He wondered what new adventure awaited to him. Pulling a very worn book out of his book-bag, he settled back to lose himself in Middle-earth.

If the Wizarding World was waiting for the clone of James Potter, they would be disappointed. He did have his father's dark, messy hair, but he had more of his mother's features and eyes. Thanks to calling in a favor, Mr. Bastian was able to get Harry's eyes fixed, so his vibrant green eyes shone brightly.

He never noticed when the train started to move.

A knock on his door brought him back to reality as he called for the person to enter.

"Have you seen a toad?" a bushy-haired girl asked, standing in the doorway.

"Sorry, no I haven't. Have you asked a prefect to summon it for you?" he asked, keeping a finger between the pages of his book as he looked up at her.

"Oh. I've read that book several times. Do you like it?" she asked, coming to sit beside him.

Harry smiled. "The trilogy is one of my favorites. I enjoy being the ranger and hidden prince. He's my favorite."

"How can you be him? He's just a character in a book. He isn't real," she scoffed.

Harry smiled a knowing smile and shook his head. Going to Hogwarts was just another part of the Neverending Story, after all.


End file.
